


The New Errand

by alcyonejonquil



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Conflict of Interests, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Internal Conflict, Like... seriously, Romance, but also a dash of, meta-reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25277497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcyonejonquil/pseuds/alcyonejonquil
Summary: Wherein an adept bandit vanishes from time to time, and a spectre (and a threat, and a hero) takes her place.
Relationships: Female Hero of Kvatch | Champion of Cyrodiil/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	The New Errand

“Wait, another?!”

Herminia sighed but kept on, unperturbed, the pile of produce to her right shrinking as, one by one, the food got chopped and added to the steaming cauldron.

“The Wood Elf said, 'new batch of equipment coming through, pick-up in two days’ time over at Capstone Cave.' I’m not the one running this show, you know.”

“But why did they have to put _you_ on it again? Are we out of able-bodied people in this shithole, by any chance?”

“I’ve no clue, Thyr, and I’m not about to go picking a fight with them over it. Do that yourself, if you want to.”

He wasn’t going to. Very risky, and he was far too desirous of advancement, too hungry for the chief’s approval. The only reason why she’d even dared suggesting it out loud.

“I might well do!”

_('Course, dear.)_

Alanthyr seemed, then, to mollify, crawling out of his bedroll and inching closer, running the back of his hand down his kneeling companion’s arm. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I never get to see you. You’ve just come back from the last one, can they not give us a bit of respite, at least?”

Hiding the mournful shadows in her smile was no longer difficult, hadn’t been for a while. She’d done it far too many times. Which is why, when she turned towards him, her eyes were glimmering with mischief, and mischievous was, also, the kitchen knife she proceeded to point half-heartedly at him.

“You wouldn’t agree, then, that I’m the best there is, and they aren’t sending me on these trips just because?” She looked away, eyebrows raised. “How I lack support from you! I figured you’d be proud!”

Alanthyr gently pried the blade away from her, setting it down on the slab of rock they’d made into a cooking space. He laced his fingers with hers instead, and buried his nose behind her ear with a chuckle.

“I am indeed, and as for your skills – I’d never dream to doubt them. One of the finest scouts I’ve seen, and deadly proficient with… hm,” he trailed off teasingly, “bows and arrows, daggers…”

“And rapiers.”

“And rapiers,” he uttered, layering kisses onto her neck. “My ruthless darling.”

Her attempts to shrug him off were met with little success. Not like she tried very hard, in fairness.

“Would you stop? It’s late, and Jan’ll have my throat if dinner’s not ready by the time his watch is done.”

“I’d say we still have an hour or so. Minny,” he shuffled forward on the cold ground to face her and coaxed her blue gaze up to his blood-red one, suddenly serious. “We’ve only got this evening, and tomorrow. After that, how long will you be gone for? Three weeks? More?”

 _Will you even return at all,_ would have been the follow-up question, nothing but a voicing of the perpetual thought, the perpetual danger.

He refrained from bringing that forth into the world, as if, in doing so, he could have rendered it less likely to come to pass.

Neither of them needed any more convincing at that point. Nevertheless, they were more than able to make themselves presentable again _and_ pour the stew into a bunch of old, scratched bowls by the time the rest of their crew made it back to the cave.

“Why would we get new things so soon, though? Is the fetcher changing their gear faster now?! Azura, I can’t believe the nerve of…”

They were spread out on a small bed of furs in a secluded corner. Everyone inside had settled in for the night. The two of them stood, naturally, huddled as close together as possible, one of Alanthyr’s arms slung over Herminia’s shoulders.

“Where’re they even getting all that stuff they’re decked out in from? Have the brass told you what you’re gonna be bringing us, by the way?”

“Glass, now, apparently. Armour, for the most part, but some weapons, too.”

Alanthyr gave a loud scoff in response.

“Gods have mercy.”

After a short pause, he began anew:

“Heavy as _anything,_ not to mention it draws a tonne of attention, all shiny and – who did you say was going with you?”

“The Khajiit twins! And our mules are good, it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“So you’re doing –“

“The caravan act, yes,” Herminia said. “It’s worked alright so far. I’m taking my hood off for no one, I’m bundled up in brown linen from head to toe… that’s me going practically unnoticed.”

“Still, it might be tricky to hide the damned cargo well enough.”

“Nothing we cannot handle,” she replied in a soothing tone, rubbing a hand along the stubble on his cheek. “We’ve done it all before.”

He breathed a laugh and leaned into her touch.

“Hopefully we can hold onto these for a bit – how is that clown getting so powerful, though? Glass? I’ve never worn glass in my life! A few months from now, they’ll have us running around in full ebony, you just wait and see.”

“I doubt anyone’ll have the coin for ebony. You oughtn’t be worrying about that.”

“You joke, but I seriously wouldn’t put it past Chief and the others.”

“Hm. Yes.” The woman hesitated. No more than a beat. “But, well, the guy’s so well-equipped because they _are_ supposed to be a godsdammed hero, whoever they are, so it’s reasonable that folks would give them stuff. And they must be powerful in the first place, if they go around closing Gates and rescuing damsels and Heavens know what else.”

“Killing us off.”

The very air around the two of them seemed to turn acrid.

Alanthyr carried on softly.

“I’ve read the reports. Chief screwed up and left them out in the open one night. It’s fucking bizarre, Minny. We’re arming ourselves to the teeth and getting new armour done, yet we can’t tell what we’re up against. Even those who’ve faced them and lived have no idea what they look like, if they’re human or mer or Daedra or… ghost? Might be; people sure can’t see them… or _it_ … when it appears in front of them. At all.”

He shifted, bringing her head to lay on his shoulder.

“So nothing’s gone sideways for our lot yet, but how much longer are we going to be lucky for? Part of me wants for it to show up soon, though – maybe we can corner it. Maybe we can – maybe _I_ can do it in myself, why not, and then everything will be back to how it was.”

She didn’t ask what would become of the Gates if that were to happen. She burrowed instead into him, soaking in his warmth and waiting for his breaths to even out.

When they did, she extricated herself from his embrace, and, quiet as a mouse, went to her backpack, took out a mask, strangely-sewn and ashen-coloured, and put it on.

She snuck out of their underground home, thief-like, unseen, unheard.

She didn’t mean to look back – there was a Gate only south of where they were, she’d seen it, felt it earlier that day, how many were dead already?...

It is not a hero’s wont, to linger.

Still, she looked back. Lingered a while in the shadowy entrance.

And only then went on her way.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much to [banjotea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjotea/pseuds/banjotea) , who so graciously answered my desperate pleas for a spark of inspiration and prompted me to write bandit romance - it was an awesome prompt, and I had a ridiculous amount of fun writing this!! <3


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